fallen from grace
by chacocat
Summary: Yukimura walks into the locker room all ravaged and torn and Sanada realizes that something was lost.


Disclaimer: TeniPuri belongs to Konomi and all the other parties involved. 

Author's Note:

-Story behind this pic: http:// somnia.yume-umi. net/ fanart/ yukirain. jpg (delete the spaces)  
-yes I am a sadist to my favorite characters…  
-I love SanaYuki, though I think it's subtle here 3

**fallen from grace**

It drizzled, it sprayed, and then it poured. Colors bled and faded away as the rain washed the world in a dreary monochrome. Dark clouds blanketed the sky, casting a depressing shadow on the earth. Sunless, colorless, and void. It was a truly joyless day. It was as if Heaven was crying.  
  
A splish, a splash. Yukimura trudged through the misty rain, water trailing down his bruised neck, cerulean hair clinging to his cheeks. His school uniform was in a complete disarray, shirt torn and tie forgotten. The thin, translucent material failed to hide the ugly purple bruises and red bite marks that marred the smooth, pale skin. The ones who branded Yukimura were rough and merciless, driven by lust. Lust for the angel's smile.   
  
  
It happened after school when everyone left for clubs or home. The sun was still shining then. He was just finishing up on match arrangements for the Rikkai tennis club and getting ready to attend practice when they came. They cornered him, all three of them, in that empty classroom.   
  
"Why don't you ever smile for us?" they asked. "Smile for us, Yukimura-buchou," they said.   
  
They converged on the boy like three predators stalking a prey, eyes filled with raw hunger. His own eyes widened in fear as they pinned him on the ground, tearing open his shirt impatiently like ravenous beasts. Yukimura opened his mouth to scream but a swift hand muffled his protests. He flailed his arms to fend off the attackers but they fettered his wrists with the tie. He kicked but they pinned his thighs down and pulled off his pants. In the end his struggles were futile as three pairs of hands immobilized him.   
  
Three pairs of hands smothered him with titillating touches. Three mouths showered him with bruising kisses and stinging bites. Three pairs of eyes bore into him with burning wanton desire. The pleasure wrenched moans and pain tore whimpers from his abused lips, but Yukimura still refused to smile for them. In response, they moved faster, harder, deeper until moans and whimpers crescendoed into screams of ecstacy and agony. Through eyes blurred by tears, he saw their distorted faces, cruel tongues licking cruel lips. That was the last thing he saw before sensations overtook him and darkness swallowed him.  
  
He awoke to the howling of the wind clattering angrily against the windows. Yukimura chuckled sardonically when he found his tie loosened. _How thoughtful of them._ Free from his bondage, he rose to his feet only to wince from the dull pain throbbing in his lower back. He bit down a cry and walked to where his pants were unceremoniously discarded. He languidly pulled them on as he looked out the window at the world on the other side. Thick, black clouds swirled in the sky, covering the brilliant sun as if those below were not worthy enough to be blessed with its radiance. It was as if Heaven closed its gates.  
  
Then the deluge started, a bit at first but it increased with intensity until the world was drowned in a blurry gray. The ravaged angel stood beneath the darkened sky and looked up to the heavens, welcoming the rain. He ignored the fact that he was drenched from head to toe or the fact that he was shivering from the cold. Instead, he let the cool rain wash over his defiled body, cleansing it of the filth. He closed his eyes and drops of rainwater streaked down pale cheeks where tears once flowed, but now he has none to cry. In lieu, the sky cried in despair and the wind howled in anguish for his loss of innocence.  
  
  
In the tennis club's locker room, Sanada furrowed his brows in a frown as he toweled his hair dry. It was well past the end of club practice, which was cut short by the rain, and Yukimura still has yet to show up. Sanada sighed. _If he couldn't make it, he could've told me._ It was not like the buchou to miss a day of practice and even stranger was that he did not inform anyone, not Sanada or Yanagi. Needless to say, the fukubuchou was worried about his buchou's unusual behavior.   
  
The stern boy got his belongings together and was about to leave when the locker room's door opened, revealing the disheveled form of the buchou in question.   
  
"Yukimura!!!" Sanada cried as his eyes widened in shock. Standing before him was his buchou, his friend with his usual tidy shirt ripped open revealing the countless marks and bruises. Raindrops, or were they teardrops, streaked down Yukimura's face while the cacophony of the rain echoed off of the lockers.  
  
His outburst was answered by a smile and a soft apology. "Sorry for being late, Sanada..."  
  
Questions and thoughts raced through Sanada's mind as he watched Yukimura enter, closing the door behind him. He couldn't move; he could only stare at Yukimura's smile.   
  
  
Yukimura could feel the unspoken questions emanating from the dark-haired boy. He could feel the tension stretching taut in the roaring silence. He lowered his head, blue curls matted down by water veiling his face. He hadn't expected Sanada to stay this late after practice, especially on a rainy day. Of all the regulars, he didn't want Sanada to see him in this state. Weak and broken like a fallen bird.  
  
He still felt dirty even after the cleansing in the rain. He could still feel the ghostly traces of those hands, those lips, and those eyes. Yukimura suppressed a shudder and walked toward the showers. He told himself that a warm shower would do him good. He would be composed enough to face Sanada. Yes if he could make it there...  
  
"Seiichi..."   
  
It only took a whisper to snap the tension and destroy the silence. It only took a whisper to shatter the fragile wall he erected as a last defense, a whisper of a name that Sanada hardly spoke. It was a line that neither dared to cross so they kept their distance, hidden behind impersonal greetings. It was ironic that it was this incident that made Sanada cross the line.   
  
Yukimura suddenly felt very tired. He sank to the floor when his knees gave out under him. Long suppressed tears finally flowed as waves of what had happened swept past him and threatened to drown him in the undertow. He felt himself sinking in the pain and sorrow, no, he _was_ sinking until arms encircled his waist and anchored him to reality. Sanada was now crouched in front of Yukimura, embracing the sobbing boy. His tears and sobs matched those of the sky and wind; he was finally able to cry for himself.   
  
  
Sanada watched the boy walk by him toward the showers. He had many questions but he knew it was not the time to ask them. Instead he whispered the name that he had always wanted to say. The breach in their unspoken agreement meant many things, and Yukimura knew and understood this when he stopped in mid-stride. Sanada realized that their relationship was a delicate one, one that exists in a limbo between being impersonal acquaintances and intimate friends. He knew that things would be simpler if he were someone like Marui or Renji. But he's not and things weren't simple. So he did the only thing he could: he stepped across the threshold, showing Yukimura that he no longer wants to be stuck in that position where both are unsure where they stand.   
  
He said nothing after that; there was nothing he could say to make things better. He could only comfort the other boy through his actions as he offered a shoulder to cry on. He was never good with words anyway. Sanada was a person of action, afterall. He thought back to the smile Yukimura gave him when he first showed up at the door.   
  
_Even though you're ravaged and torn, you still smiled that smile of yours._  
  
But he knew that the damage was done. He knew that something was lost.   
  
The boy in his arms cried for that loss; the sky cried for that loss. Outside, the wind raged while the rain poured, and Heaven mourned for the one fallen from grace.


End file.
